Those of us who are grieving long for the "signs" that let us know our loved ones are still with us...I guess because we live in a tangible world where everything is at our fingertips that we expect something concrete, something real and instantaneous to hold onto when we feel we cannot take another breath or step, when we are so broken that even the crack of light doesn't seem to be shining on us. We pray for signs, we ask or beg our loved ones to send us one, or to come to us in a dream. For me, those messages come more clearly when I just seize the day and savor where I am at that particular moment in time. This moment will never be again. This experience is temporal, and in a minute, this too shall pass. So, I am learning to savor and just BE in it, in the now. And when I don't put pressure on myself to be in a different place, the signs, the messages, the whispers, the dreams come, and they are beautiful.
I recall the exact moment when I knew "signs" would be part of my life. I always knew I was open to them, but at this particular time in my life, I was so desperate for that message that life was going to be okay, so desperate that I fell to my knees and almost bargained with God, made a deal, begged Him to let my mother enter eternal rest, for Him to let her know it was okay to stop fighting for her life, to ease out of the six week coma that had become her trap, and to stop the medical interventions that just wouldn't make a difference anyway. Our family was so traumatized by this turn of events in our lives, that never, ever would I have known just what it would prepare me for down the road. And as I asked for God's grace and mercy upon her life, that moment, such peace came upon me, knowing I didn't have to carry the burden alone, and fifteen minutes later the call came from the doctor saying that if we wanted to see her or be with her in her passing, we may want to get to the hospital. I made it in time to whisper in her ear that we were all there, my sister, my brother, my father, her grandchildren, and we were, not physically, but spiritually, we were all in that room. The moment came and her spirit left the burdened body. And in that instant, at 40 years old, I knew what I was meant to know, God is good, He takes care of things according to His plan, and by walking in faith, and trust, we don't walk alone. Now, this is not to say the next years were easy, they were anything but...grief was unknown and unchartered, losing one's mother who was also a best friend, was one of the most difficult life lessons, but again, that prepared me for my future days, the twists and turns of being with my father, years later, and my daughter, years later, still, when they left this earth. How grueling and painful this journey. But we now know that as we suffer we become stronger and more aware than had we not had the experiences.
But, back to the signs. I have kept somewhat of a journal of them, all sent to me by a loving God who knows what we need to keep us sustained, hopeful and faithful. They are all around us, and every grieving mother or father or sister or brother sees and feels them. I could elaborate on the many I have received, and maybe someday I will, but as I get to know others who walk this journey, and know that we are now in somewhat of a new "club", I know the need to search and seek and find these messages. I know the valley of darkness that we must climb out of just to be able to breathe and live and cope. I know the comfort of the sign, the whisper, the presence of the spirit that exists and has taken the place of the physical body. I know, and recognize, that the signs are meant for me, and maybe only understood by me. I also know the curious look of others when I share a story, and I know who can relate, and who cannot. I hear from mothers who have their own stories and I know it is God sending these signs of hope so that we can learn to develop and nurture an ever changing relationship with our children, who we once carried under our hearts, and now carry within our souls. We are always and forever a mother. Our children are not dead to us at all, rather they live on in a more profound way than ever before. They live and their spirit sends messages of comfort. They do not want us to be in pain, they want us to live, live in honor of who they were and what they meant to us.
I have felt the breeze at just the right time, seen the shadow when there is no reason for there to be one, and seen the ray of lightbeams bounce through the house. I have heard the whisper, "you did it, mom", or "keep going, mom" when I thought I couldn't keep on with family traditions. I have seen her name in print and recognized that she was the only Allison I knew, and now, it seems, everyone has that name, even a sea turtle featured on the Today Show, for goodness sakes! I have seen the face of cancer patients, smiling and glowing, living and loving life and know that she taught us what she did for a definite purpose, to never complain and to seize the day. I have witnessed, as have many others, the incredible pink sunset across the country on the anniversary of her passing, one year later, and the letter A etched in the skies, from Iowa to Boston. I, along with my family, observed the rainbow of colors that penetrated her hospital room at the exact moment she left us for her eternal resting place, even the nurses were astounded. And I have experienced the moment of despair when "My Wish" by Rascal Flatts comes on the radio and I hear her favorite song and its sweet message. It is then that I know her loving God tends to us all, cries the tears with us, but knows there are no coincidences, and keeps sending messages so we can carry on, while we can.
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